Lockdown Journal – Day Eight of Twenty-One

Day 8 – Friday, 3 April 

The start of the second week of lockdown – I’m feeling under the weather just by looking out the window at the endless grey carpet of rainy clouds. Feeling drowsy and sleepy, I make strong coffees in between bouts of intermittent rain showers and decide on a half-day work, half-day rest. The fiction writing has reached a stalling point, commonly known as writer’s block. I’ve managed with some difficulty to move from 40k to 41k words but jumping over this threshold proves another challenging task. Sigh. Not even my lockdown blogging wants to cooperate today, but I somehow manage to continue.

I’m in a slump, mentally and physically, waiting for better days, sunshine and rainbows, whatever will keep me on a positive track. I search for a positive music playlist on YouTube. I hide away my smartphone and avoid the weather app – it’s going to be raining throughout the whole Saturday. I find comfort in food, as always: a ham and cheese omelette I share with my husband, knowing he won’t be able to eat the full plate. My obsession with eggs usually means a larger-than-life omelette that could quickly fill the neighbours’ bellies, too. Still, we must keep away from them, also, to maintain #socialdistancing – which has become a much-touted hashtag on social media, together with #stayathome and #lockdownSA. 

Grocery shopping resumes today, which is hubby’s task, as soon as he finishes work. Following the necessary precautions, he takes a quick run to the supermarket and returns with fresh bread and milk, hot cross buns (Easter essentials – bless him!), vegetables and lentil soup, and the biggest piece of porterhouse steak I’ve ever seen. The steak would have to wait to be grilled outside the soonest the weather turns – on Sunday. The shops are quite busy this Friday, he tells me, pretty much like a regular day, as if there is no state of emergency declared. I shake my head, glad he doesn’t have to go back any time sooner. Perhaps sometime next week ahead of the holy Easter weekend. 

Warmed up with delicious soup and fresh ciabatta, we spend the rest of the evening like couch potatoes, as it should be in any respectful quarantine: watching TV series, then reading – hubby the news, myself finishing my current book. Upstairs, candles flicker, vapours rise from the hot bath while relaxing chillout music is streaming from the bedroom. 

I can hear the rain falling again. It splatters the windows in long streaks of water, the droplets carried by the howling wind. The wind blows across the open field and the few palm trees in our residential complex. I pray to fall asleep, lulled by the sound of dripping water, but I know it’s going to be a long rainy night. 

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